Drabble Set
by Treol
Summary: Gokusen 2//Post Graduation. Three drabbles about new jobs, old jobs and success.


Titles and Summaries:  
**Hair** - Preparations for a new job don't always have to be traumatic.  
**Your Homeroom Teacher!** - Yankumi thinks that it would be a good idea to keep in touch with her ex-students, if she wants to be their teacher forever.  
**Soggy Noodles** - They weren't as bad as you'd think.

Time frame:  
**Hair** - Prior to Ryu working at Akadou, after he's graduated from university.  
**Your Homeroom Teacher!** and **Soggy Noodles** - Around the time Ryu's employed at Akadou.

Please comment.

* * *

**Hair**

There's no mistaking the hiss of awe behind him, as his towel slips off, soft fabric caressing his shoulders. It's as if their stares have weight, but they're not a burden he's unaccustomed to. It's flattering almost, dancing between the normality's shades of gray.

The slightest tilt, the slightest twist was greeted with a sound of approval, feather light touches teasing his nape. Unforgiving white light leaving nothing to hide.

"Wow..."

Then again, Take was always easy to please.

"It turned out great!"

Ryu was under the impression his friend would've reacted the same way if he'd dyed his hair bright pink instead.

"Hah, I told you so!"

Not that he'd mention that out loud. Hyuuga looked a little too proud under praise, and Ryu didn't have the heart to take that away from him.

"What are you grinning about? The instructions were to 'just add water.' Even Hayato could've done that."

"Oi!"

Tsuchiya, evidently, did.

He didn't bother turning around, watching their reflections in the bathroom mirror. It was a little funny, though. Their latest reunion, after months of skirty text messages and minute-long phone calls, was taking place in a bathroom.

He took a step to his left, leaving room for a shorter male who still hadn't grown completely out of sticking dozens of pins on his head.

"Hey, you look really good, Ryu," Takeda pointed, his infallible smile once more in place, as he took a second to twist poke at newly dark chestnut locks. And over his shoulder, he added, "Don't listen to them, Hyuuga. You really should work at a salon!"

"Yeah, with all the other pansi- ow! Foot!"

The basis of hesitation was ruined, though, when Hayato tried to suffocate him with the towel before smothering him for behind with heavy, long limbs and general disregard for personal space.

If Hayato wasn't getting dye all over his favourite shirt, Ryu would've considered pushing him away.

Wails crashed straight into the slighter man's ear – on purpose, Ryu had no doubt, as he was shaken like a rag doll. All in one breath: "Our little Ryu's all grown up! Stepping out into the big, bad world without pretty red hair that made look like a hot foreign girl and getting a big serious job he's going to educate the masses!"

"Shut up, Mother." Rolling his eyes, finally shoving the brunette, he scowled, pawing at his drying locks.

Curled against his face, sticking out in all directions, it brought him back a little.

To a time when Take had a gap between his teeth and liked to chew coins.

To a time when Hayato would twist his hair into a tiny pineapple on the top of his head – or two ponytails, or three, or whatever else rubber bands could possibly manage.

He probably would've gotten beaten up, he supposed, if he hadn't been so good at swinging heavy, blunt objects and hitting small, round ones with them.

To a time no one pointed out bad hair styles.

"Hey, Take, do you remember that summer Ryu was a blond?"

Sometimes it didn't help, growing up with idiots with good memories.

"Ah, yeah... You were trying for red, right?"

"See that, Hyuuga? _Real_ men don't know how to dye their hair."

"Well, he got it right the next month..."

"Yeah, and half the guys at Little League were in lo- what the Hell, my shirt!?"

Well, he supposed, he could deal with it. Because they were idiots and there were memories but they were his idiots and his memories.

"Hey, Take." He smirked into his hand, partially hiding the expression before he murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Remember when Hayato got locked in the girls' bathroom, trying to steal a hair curler?"

"Oh shi-"

"And set his hair on fire?"

And sometimes, it did.

End.

* * *

**Your Homeroom Teacher!**

Yamaguchi Kumiko supposed it could've all been a bad dream.

It was nice and warm and soft in her bed.

It was cold and windy and loud outside her bed.

Yankumi, as she was fondly – arguably – called by her students, didn't need to know basic algebra to figure out where she wanted to be and what she wanted to be doing, given the circumstances, at three a.m. in the middle of November. So it was no wonder she was promising to do a lot of really painful things to the owner of the unfamiliar number flashing on her cell phone's screen, the very same one that was flashing repeatedly just below the numbers 3:04:18.

Maybe she'd lock them in a room with Sawatari for an hour.

Groaning as unfocused eyes tried to find the button (whether to accept or reject the call, she wasn't certain), while unsteady fingers tried to move, all she could wish for was the shrill, obnoxious (and really, why did Baba-san even want to download songs on her phone for her?!) noise to go away.

And it did.

And she slumped back in her bed, ready to continue supplying the drool river down her cheek when it started blaring _again_.

_Stupid wrong number-_

_But maybe someone was in an emer-_

_Sawatari for an hour-_

_The fuzz exists for a reason!_

_Stupid wrong number!_

Leaving everything to faith, she shut her eyes tightly, randomly pressed the keyboard, pulled the phone to her ear and grunted.

You didn't live with the Yakuza without knowing how to be cool like that.

She was almost startled by hearing someone's voice in her ear.

"_I don't know any other girls."_

Something between a grumble and a snarl left her throat. She never claimed to be a language teacher. Alright, so maybe there was that one time, but she was doing it for a student's love. Tears of the heart!

"_He kicked me out."_

"Nice..." And that incident with those tourists didn't count. She wanted to be their friend more than their teacher, anyway – especially that one guy. What was his name? "Mm... Flavio..."

"_I'll be there soon. Fuck it's cold."_

Maybe Flavio needed her help? Certainly she was more of a woman than any of those hussies! Er, her appreciated, adorable children – especially that blond floozy that was hanging all over Flavio and pretending to know French. Who cared if she was from Moselle?

Yankumi could Moselle her in her sleep!

Hah, so there!

And twenty minutes later, with angered knocking at their door, Tetsu and Minoru with a pair of katana at the ready, it was slightly understandable that all Yankumi did was stare when she caught sight of Yabuki Hayato in two sweaters and a jacket, holding a little baby.

"Let me in," He growled, somehow managing to twist the words out of the politeness he'd undoubtedly attempted. "It's cold; we took the bike, and he's smelly!"

Ushering the young man, catching a glimpse of an adult tricycle in front of their gate, with a basket that was most probably suited for carrying groceries, all she could blurt out was, "It's a he?"

"I don't know."

And Yankumi came to the conclusion that Hayato was right.

It was smelly.

--

The next morning, when she came face to face with her co-worker sitting alone at her family's breakfast mat, a cup of tea in hand and his left eye swollen shut, Yankumi made a promise to herself.

Odagiri Ryu lifted his cup in greeting before bringing it to his lips, evidently enjoying the bitter warmth. In a typically nonchalant manner, he shruged and commented, as if it explained everything, "Hyuuga is the violent type of drunk."

"Ah..."

From now on, she was definitely going to have to start asking him more than 'How was your class.' Maybe cutting back on the gyoza before bedtime would work, too.

And somewhere, somewhere that sounds like maybe their front lawn, a baby cries.

-End-

* * *

**Soggy Noodles**

Kids are stupid.

Really, nowadays, kids are stupid.

The pretty girlfriend of the leader from the school you consider your nemesis (and Ryu wished he was talking about some sort of sports competition) was not, under any circumstances, going to want to hit up with you, even _if_ you say 'please.'

He didn't know how long he'd taken to portray that message to his stunned homeroom class, but writing it down in large, messy kanji on the blackboard must have helped something.

Hopefully.

He groaned, particularly miserable, into his bowl of soggy ramen.

Then he stabbed it, impaling innocent noodles with unforgiving chopsticks.

For crying out loud, even _Take _knew that back then!

If it hadn't been for the onslaught of metal pipes, he would've sincerely regretted breaking up the fight. Fights had been the only way to get that particular message really drilled into Hayato's head, though. And even then, it didn't help that he won more often than not.

And the idiot was late.

And he was waiting for the late idiot like a tag-along puppy.

Ryu didn't want to think about who was the bigger idiot.

He decided to give it ten more minutes (or until his lettuce stopped looking edible, and he had his bet on the soggy not-vegetable thing) before paying his bill and giving a ridiculously large apology tip for keeping the store open for so long. The blond had a family to attend to, and who else but the devil would chose that moment to thrash into the unsuspecting ramen shop.

Ryu was certain the entire entrance shook when the door banged against it.

And Hayato was looking around like a mad man.

He swore all he did was blink, and his arguably sane friend was leaning over him, panting in his face, his ramen tipped over and spilt on the floor forgotten.

"He did it..."

Ryu twisted backwards instinctively, trying to put some more distance between them, his lips tingling with the other's warmth, but the action turned futile as a pair of hands fisted around the front of his shirt, forcing away the inches between them and he found his mouth filled with a tongue that he was pretty sure wasn't his.

Yelping, blushing to the tips of his ears for the first time since time began (not that anyone would notice with the racket around him or would have the gall to ask once it subsided), Ryu was pretty sure he managed to squawk something along the lines of 'public', but it was drowned out in Hayato's yell of, "Kuma! Six sev- no eight! Eight! orders, salty ra to go! Extra meat! Extraaa meeeat! No and you guys, too, te- eleven! Eleven orders! Dammit I'm paying!"

At that point, Ryu regained enough of his motor abilities to pick the remnants of his dinner off the floor and to throw himself at the older, flailing man. The latter effort didn't go as successfully, both of them forced against the cashier in a painful tangle of limbs and Hayato still grinning stupidly up at him.

It really couldn't be good for business, no matter how you looked at it.

"What it Hell are you doing, Hayato and if you don't h-"

"Nishogakusha!"

"have an excuse- wait... What?"

"Nishogakusha University," he managed to gasp out, clutching Ryu like dear life depended on it, and it would've been possibly sexy if Ryu wasn't homicidal, Hayato stupid and Kumai didn't think that right then would've been a good idea to make an appearance.

"Nishogakusha University!" The yell seemed to pierce through his very soul. Maybe it was because Hayato was screaming in his ear. "Taku, Taku got in!"

"Oh you idiot! Why didn't you- congratu-!?"

And Hayato was kissing him, open mouthed and excited and messy and he was pretty sure that was his nose at some point, he was screaming orders as well, watching as his friend donned an apron, as if he hadn't quit being Kuma's waiter years before.

Returning to an apartment he knew too well was a little difficult

_("Ryu, call Take! Tsucchi! They have to come! They can pick us up!" _

"_Wha- bu- how did you get here?"_

"_I ran."_

"_Ah..."_

"_I forgot my phone at home."_

"_Hn.")_

seeing as they all couldn't fit on Kuma's bike – though he would give Hayato credit for trying, but he was listening to more ear-splitting screams almost an hour later. Like his son, Yabuki Hirofumi turned out to cry, quite a lot, when hopelessly, happily drunk.

It was good, just being there, for Taku's first (and possibly last, for a very long time) father and brother-approved drink. Considering that Hayato expected him to make a business out of doing his classmates' homework and that his father didn't quite believe his youngest son knew where babies came from, it was easy to accept that the Yabuki men didn't see eye to eye when it came to the youngest member of their family.

Watching Tsucchi singing off-key alongside a teary-eyed Yabuki-san, Kuma on his other side; Take playing peek-a-boo with the bundle of pink in Ami's arms; Hyuuga blabbering about the hot spots in Chiyoda to Taku who couldn't stop grinning, his face a nice shade of vermillion, and the retreating figure in the corner of the room who kept having to retreat to the bathroom because he kept 'getting things in my eye, dammit!'; everything seemed to come together.

And it was good, just good, that idiots didn't turn out all that bad.

-End-


End file.
